For All The Times Gone By
by Vahkhiin
Summary: Clint has a little tradition for New Year's eve, though through the years it's become more of their little tradition more than anything. Clint/Natasha


**A/N: **Well, another year is right around the corner in a matter of hours - well for me and the rest of Australia anyway...everyone else is still either a few hours or a lot of hours behind :P. I actually wrote this a few weeks ago but because it's written with the 'Auld Lang Syne' in mind I only thought it was appropriate to post it up on New Years eve. Enjoy! And thanks to everyone who has left reviews for my other Clintasha fics :) and last but not least, HAPPY NEW YEAR EVERYONE! - well, not yet but almost :).

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He doesn't think about it often and when he does it's only on days like these when the world stops for a while to remember. It's on the day when fireworks fill the skies and when children laugh, men drink and women chatter. It's on that day when a part of his life will end and another one begins, like when a chapter draws to a close and another one begins.

It doesn't matter where he is or what he's doing. He could be on a mission in a quaint little safe house waiting for evac with her or he could be looking down the scope of his sniper or holding his bow and arrow taut and ready to release. He could be holding her in his arms in an undercover mission or just them, alone, in their quarters at SHIELD's base. It didn't really matter where, or what, or why, it only mattered when she was in a different time zone. He would pause for a moment on the countdown to 0 and he'll spend it thinking about his mother, a second about his brother and another for his father even though the two didn't deserve his thoughts at all. But as the years have gone by and the more and more their relationship shifted from friendship to something much more intimate, Coulson's caught on to his little tradition and more often than not they'll find themselves having been appointed joint down time around that time of the year. It took a few years to refine his little tradition but slowly as the years came and went and slowly as they drew closer and closer together, they started to build an entire agenda for that day.

He'll start his little tradition 15 hours before the countdown to 0 to remember the darker side of things in his life. He'll think about the time he spent in the circus even though he didn't really want too. He'll try not to spend more than a minute thinking about his hopeless case of a brother and he'll spend only 5 seconds or 10 seconds if he's feeling particularly sentimental to remember his father. He'll dedicate a lot more to his mother though and visit her grave, bring her fresh flowers and all of that because really none of it was ever her fault. There are other days when he blames himself and then there are these days when he'll blame his father. But then there are days like these when he'll remember that she willingly held that gun to her head and pulled the trigger. A little bit inside of him dies when he stands there by her grave stone, holding the corner of it as if he clung on for dear life. But then he'll turn and search the graveyard for his partner. She's not too far away, standing under the tree leaning against it and watching him from behind her long discarded shades.

She'll give him a small nod, the one that tells him he has all the time in the world and she'll wait, no matter what, for however long it takes for him to finish whatever he needs to do. He knows she's going through the same thing. She's thinking about her past, about everything that's happened to her and about all the struggles and pain she's gone through to get here. She doesn't have graves to visit like he does so he knows that somehow or another she'll spend those few moments to silently speak to her parents too. Then she'll smile at him, that one single tiny little curl of her lip that she only saves for him and him alone. It normally takes him a while but when he finally does get around to it he'll realize that the little bit of him that died inside of him comes alive again.

It'll be a little bit after 14 hours before when he'll remove that hand he has placed at the corner of her grave stone and wish his mother the usual holiday greetings and promises to be a better man for the next time around he visits her next year. He'll turn to check whether she's still at the tree even though he always knows that she is. He'll beckon her over and he'll introduce her to his mother just like every other year and just like any proper son would. She murmurs her greetings to his mother and she tells his mother not to worry because she'll look out for him and make sure he doesn't get up to no good. She does it so naturally, so simply that it mostly catches him off guard because this is her, this is the Black Widow. This is the woman that kills for a living that's speaking to his mother as if she's standing there before him alive and well and not six feet under. It softens him inside and it warms him to know that she tries to lighten the mood, that she tries even though she doesn't need too because this is him, his life and everything that defines him.

He'll scan the graveyard for any others and sometimes there are a few, but none that he knows and none that look like they were there to bother them. He'll throw his arm around her shoulders, pull her close and press a kiss at her hair. She won't scoff at him like she normally does when it comes to public displays of affection. She'll actually lean into him much like she does when they're alone in their room. She'll curl an arm around his waist and she'll let him pull her closer to his side. The act alone is enough for him to finally decide that it was time they bid his mother farewell for another year.

It's somewhere near to 13 hours before when they leave the grave yard. She'll suggest an early lunch somewhere in a small cheap little empty diner and together they'll walk there. He'll have an arm around her shoulder and she'll have hers tucked neatly into his back pocket. They'll walk like they're just normal people with normal jobs and normal lives. He'll joke about things, she'll laugh and sometimes they make fun of people dressed in the silliest festive clothings. It's simple really and at the end of the day that's all they are, people, humans that happen to be better at killing than anything else.

He'll watch her when she eats because she always eats so damn slowly that he finishes his when she's only at her fourth mouth full. But it doesn't matter because he'll make small talk, comment about how the weather is and whether that ball is going to actually drop properly this year or stop midway. They'll trade jokes about that for a while and sometimes she'll suggest that they covertly remove a particularly important screw. They never do though. They never make it anywhere near there to even try.

It's at the 11th hour before when they'll finally step out of that now slightly packed diner to venture down into the city. They don't get days like these too often so when they do they make the best of it and be as normal as humanly possible. They'll walk down the streets and soak in the atmosphere of the festive themed decorated city. They'll hold hands, point at some funny festive decors and laugh, make jokes, just like couples did. They'll sometimes stop for ice cream even though it was cold out because though they were trying to be normal and everything, they had to do something out of the ordinary to feel somewhat themselves again. Then after that he'll suggest a walk through central park and she'll agree mostly because despite what other SHIELD agents thought about her, she actually enjoyed and loved parks.

They'll spend a while walking around before they'd find that one particular park bench they liked to claimed exclusively theirs for the afternoon. It's always the same one every year and sometimes there'll be a couple there or a family or a jogger sitting down for a rest. They'd wait though, linger around and pretend to look at the trees. But eventually they'll claim the seat as theirs and they'll sit there for hours on end just watching the world go by. There was a reason why they chose that bench though and it wasn't because it was strategically placed to allow them to have a full radius view of anything and everything that could possibly sneak up on them. He chose it because he thought it was the most comfortable of all park benches in the park and she chose it because she liked the way the trees overlapped above them, creating the most beautiful circular view of the sky.

He'll have an arm around the back of the seat and every so often he'll play with the ends of her hair and she'll smile, lean into him even though she's going against her entire character to do so. He likes to think that it's on this day when she lets everything go and forgets and lives a little for him. But as the years have passed and after all these days they've spent here, he begins to think she doesn't just do it for him, she does it for herself too. She does it for every year she spent in the Red Room being unmade and made again repeatedly. She does it for every mission when they've stepped far too close to death. She does it for them because even though she's been so used to being the Black Widow 365 days a year, now that she has him, she wants that one day to just be her too. She doesn't want to pretend to be normal, she just will be for a day without question, without the walls and the hovering thought of the next mission. She'll just love him and let him hold her. She'll hold his hand, curl that arm around his waist and lean into him. She'll do everything that a normal couple in love does.

They'll spend a while talking about things like that, reminiscing on some missions in the year that they've shared or some of the funnier things they've seen Coulson did that year. Like that one year Coulson thought he'd play a role in that undercover mission in Sydney all because he wanted to see what the inside of the Opera House looked like. It's normally after that when something in the air blankets over them and they'll quieten up and let the sounds of the park take over. That's normally when he'll lean his head against hers and pull her close, never let her go and promise to love her until the end of always. It isn't a surprise when she returns the gesture and holds him a little tighter than she normally would when they were alone in their room. She'll say those three words she normally doesn't say and she'll be smiling all the while.

They'll sit there until the 8th hour before they'll retire to their little apartment. It takes them right up until the 7th hour before when they reach the apartment because they'll walk and soak in some more of the city lights like tourists who visit the city for this one particular day of the year. She'll joke about that ball again and he'll tell her all it really takes is for one of his sparking arrows to malfunction the entire show and he knows exactly where to put it.

He'll hold her close all the while when they walk home and sometimes they'll stop by the grocer and pick up some things to make for dinner. But sometimes they'll just stop by a cheap little restaurant and order some food and bring it back. They normally make it home by the 6th hour and they'll spend the next three enjoying dinner and talking about things again. They'll stargaze for a while, soak in the atmosphere of the city lights again and occasionally turn on the television to see where the dropping of the ball is at. Then they'll spend the remaining hours in bed or on the lounge or on the roof. It all doesn't really matter so long as they're together doing something. Then the New Year would begin and though there'll be that one more milestone added to their relationship, they'll be back to business ready for a mission the day after.

But more or less that's how it has been for many years until this year when a lot of weird and out of this world kind of things happened. He admits that exactly one year ago on this day he didn't think he'd be kidnapped and brainwashed by a god. He never imagined he'd find himself suddenly surrounded by new found friends one of whom was a god, a super human, a billionaire and a Hulk. They're all broken people in a way and he thinks that's probably why they've become all such great friends. But most of all and probably the only thing that will ever fully complete him is him standing there at the window of a Stark designed, equipped and built nursery. He's looking into it at the little life he helped to create somehow against all odds that one night not too long after that battle of New York City after a long and tedious talk with her about how he didn't need to beat himself up for all the things he thought he did wrong.

His little tradition that's become more of their little tradition after all the times gone by won't quite pan out as expected this year. But that's okay, it's alright because he knows that somewhere, somehow, his mother will be watching over them and she'll be smiling. He doesn't need to visit her grave this year, doesn't need to bring her fresh flowers or spend that afternoon in central park holding that one person that's completed him on so many levels. He has everything he needs here in the tower, in that nursery and in that room down the hall.

She'll be sleeping when he returns to the room later with that small little body held tightly against his chest. He'll kiss his little son's head and he'll watch her sleep and think about all the time's gone by. He probably won't ever be able to rid his ledger of all that red and for that matter neither will she. But somewhere in between the years and to the lead up to that moment he realizes that it all doesn't matter anymore because now they have this.

Nothing can ever take that away from them.


End file.
